


The Links

by cable69



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cable69/pseuds/cable69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock, who had been seated with the Vulcan Council and the older Spock, appeared before their long table. Kirk couldn’t help but notice that he looked smashing in his formal uniform. He was noticing a lot of things like that about Spock lately, and it was confusing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Links

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on ff.net; unedited

The cuff links had been given to him by the older Spock a year ago, at a ceremony on New Vulcan the crew of the Enterprise was required to attend. They were gold, embossed with a famous Vulcan phrase—the common Standard translation was Live long and prosper—rendered in elegant, swirling calligraphy. The older Spock seemed to enjoy New Vulcan. He had a large hand in setting up the colony and was on its ruling council. The ceremony, which celebrated the founding of the colony, was to occur every year. It just so happened that the Enterprise was back in the quadrant, so Starfleet let them know that they had been invited, and strongly recommended that they attend.

Most of the crew found the formal dinner inedible, but the Vulcans, aware of the human penchant for sensitive stomachs, served human desserts and hors d’oeuvres after the meal. The human crewmembers did not seem to mind that appetizers were served beside desserts and gobbled down hundreds of tiny cheese kebabs and canapés. The alien crewmembers rolled their eyes at their counterparts’ pickiness and ate the Vulcan meal.

Captain Kirk, who couldn’t eat foreign food (or quite a few items of human food) of any sort without risking a severe allergic reaction, tried the only thing he knew he wasn’t allergic to: plomeek soup. It was ridiculously bland stuff even though it had about a thousand rare Vulcan herbs in it. Evidently the Vulcans had sensitive tastebuds, considering how his tablemates raved about its “subtle, delicious flavors,” but as far as Kirk could tell, the soup was salty water with a tiny pinch of something quietly smooth and unknown.

He and the commanding officers were the guests of honor, like last time. All of the speeches were boring, and Kirk got tired of looking at the architecture (could the Vulcans build anything that wasn’t reddish-brown and spiky?), so he started chatting up the young Vulcan Federation Envoy, Lady T’Rai, to his right. She was slightly taken aback by his obvious tactics but seemed willing, so they disappeared into a coat closet for half an hour and came back slightly ruffled but much less bored.

McCoy, sitting to Kirk’s left, had noticed his captain’s absence. He rolled his eyes when Kirk sat back down next to him again, correcting his golden cuff links innocently.

“What?” he said to McCoy, fluttering his eyelashes. “I just had to run to the restroom.”

“For thirty minutes? With T’Rai?”

“We got to talking.”

“I’m sure you did. You just happened to miss the last of the speeches. We get to socialize now. Though I suppose you already have.”

Kirk grinned. “You could call it that.”

Spock, who had been seated with the Vulcan Council and the older Spock, appeared before their long table. Kirk couldn’t help but notice that he looked smashing in his formal uniform. He was noticing a lot of things like that about Spok lately, and it was confusing him.

“Captain,” he said, nodding to Kirk. “Doctor McCoy, the council would like to make your acquaintance.”

“Not Kirk’s?” said McCoy, looking pleased. “I’ll be right over.” He smirked at the captain. 

“Frankly, I’m relieved,” said Kirk. “Those Vulcan formal greeting ceremonies take months off of my life.”

“Quite,” said Spock distractedly. He was watching McCoy walk around the dias.

Something flickered in Kirk’s mind. Was it possible that his first officer was watching his chief medical officer so intently for a reason? He coughed quietly and Spock’s eyes flicked over to him. He shook his head, and Spock looked straight back at McCoy, who had descended and was approaching Spock.

The two men walked over to the council table. T’Rai leaned over to Kirk.

“Would you like to meet my husband?” she asked. “I promise it won’t be a formal greeting.”

He glanced over at her. She looked a hell of a lot like Spock, he realized. Her hair was short, bobbed, and jet-black, and her cheekbones were sharp. Her voice was even oddly deep for a woman.

“Yes, of course,” he said, extending his hand.

As they moved through the crowd, he said, “You don’t seem like other Vulcans.”

T’Rai smiled at him. “I was raised on Earth. I graduated first in my class from the Vulcan Science Academy; that’s the only reason they accept me the way I am. The combination of those two accomplishments is the reason they made me Federation Envoy.”

“So you’re incredibly smart and highly emotional? How delightful.”

“I thought you’d think so. I did make sure to express my emotions thoroughly back there in the cloak room.”

“I must say, I noticed.”

They had reached a knot of Vulcans discussing some obscure theory of planetary development. T’Rai tapped the biggest one on the shoulder. He was a head taller than Kirk and about four times as muscular. Kirk gulped.

“Baro, this is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise. James, this is Lord Baro, Provost of the Vulcan Science Adacemy, and my husband.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Kirk, shaking Baro’s hand. Baro nodded to him, and to Kirk’s slight horror, sniffed the air between him and T’Rai.

“I see you have made an acquaintance with my wife,” said Baro tonelessly. “She is passionate, for a Vulcan.”

“Er, yes,” said Kirk nervously.

“Baro doesn’t mind,” said T’Rai to Kirk. “Since Vulcan marriages are arranged, we are expected to take lovers. Baro was science officer on the USS Biden before he was appointed Provost.”

“I see,” said Kirk, not sure how to handle the situation. “Did you enjoy your time in Starfleet?”

Baro’s eyes lit up. Evidently he had loved Starfleet. T’Rai slipped quietly away after ten minutes when it became clear that Kirk and Baro had a lot to talk about.

A half an hour later, Spock came to find Kirk. “Provost,” he said, nodding to Baro. “Captain, something has happened,” he said to Kirk, grasping Kirk’s arm. Kirk stood, following Spock to a quiet, concealed corner.

“What is it, Spock?” said Kirk, aware despite himself of Spock’s proximity. 

“Doctor McCoy has been poisoned,” said Spock. “I noticed earlier that his step seemed off. The poison has affected his muscles—”

Spock paused, a strange expression on his face, and leaned in closer to Kirk, who just knew his fast heartbeat was deafening in the confined space. He sniffed lightly. “Captain, have you recently…” Spock shook his head, drawing back. “Now is not the time. The doctor is in good condition, but as I said, his muscles have been rendered useless. We have only hours before the poison reaches his heart.”

“Can anything be done?” said Kirk, worried.

“Yes, an antidote can be requested from the Vulcans. I thought, since you are the commanding officer, that you would—”

“Take me to them,” said Kirk. He was back in captain mode.

The Vulcans readily agreed to provide the antidote, but the stuff had to be prepared since it did not last in storage for more than a few hours. He went to see McCoy, who had been placed in a sitting room off the main chamber, to tell him that it would be about two and a half hours before the serum was ready. The doctor couldn’t speak, so a Vulcan was assigned to mind meld with him occasionally to see if his status had changed or if he had anything to say. He was fully conscious, and the communication the Vulcan translated to Kirk expressed, in no uncertain terms, McCoy’s feelings about the poison, Kirk, and exactly what Kirk should be doing to get rid of the poison. Kirk left quickly, making a mental note to apologize to the Vulcan after all this was over with.

“Who do we think is culpable?” said Kirk to Spock, back in the main room. The guests had not been informed of the occurrence once it had been established that only McCoy’s plate was poisoned. They were hovering near the Vulcan council, who looked about as worried as Vulcans could ever look. 

“Security has locked down the kitchens,” said Spock. “However, it is likely that the poisoner left before the crime was discovered, or that the poisoner is among us.” Kirk glanced around automatically.

“There’s no motive I can think of,” said Kirk. “Did the Vulcan council want to meet him for any special reason?”

“They had simply heard of his medical expertise and wished to learn more about him,” said Spock.

Kirk rubbed his chin, thinking. “Do we know of anyone who has a grudge against McCoy?”

“Vulcans do not hold grudges, Captain.”

“You never know. Amongst the crew, perhaps? Run a background check up on the Enterprise.”

“Yes, sir,” said Spock, flipping open his communicator. The orbiting ship had been left with a skeleton staff that Spock whipped into action.

They brainstormed while waiting for a reply from the Enterprise. Raval, a half-Vulcan doctor, came to inform Kirk that McCoy’s basic neuromuscular functions were being unexpectedly affected by the poison. Evidently the dosage the doctor had received had been more potent than they had previously suspected. 

“He does not have much time,” said Raval, who was short and pale-haired with a preoccupied expression. “I checked on the progress of the antidote. The first batch was accidentally ruined; since we rarely make mistakes, we had not thought to prepare more than one. The second is about two hours from being ready.”

Kirk felt his stomach twist. God, he couldn’t let Leonard die. 

“Spock, what can we do?” he hissed, taking Spock aside. 

Spock’s eyes were still watching Raval, who was whispering commands to his medical staff. “We can attempt an older version of the serum,” said Spock. “We keep live strands of every single known vaccine on the Enterprise. It might not work, and we run the risk of speeding up the reaction.”

“There’s nothing we can do to speed up the making of the new serum?”

“Raval told me that the new serum is boiling, which it must do for two hours before it is ready. His report was independently confirmed by Secham, at the laboratory.”

Kirk narrowed his eyes. “Independently confirmed?”

Spock drew Kirk even further aside. “I requested that Raval’s background be checked also. He is a half-Vulcan, raised on Earth. He attended medical school with Doctor McCoy. He was second in his class; the doctor was first.”

Kirk raised an eyebrow. “No grudges, huh? But you’ve got the right idea. Don’t trust anything he says.”

“Of course, captain.”

“Would you mind meld with McCoy to ask him if he’d like to take the older vaccine? And ask him about Raval, see if they had a rivalry.”

McCoy did want the old serum when the situation was explained to him. Kirk hurt to see the fear in his eyes ask Spock withdrew his hand. Kirk had looked up the poison; the stuff was extremely effective and commonly used in the Romulan Empire. Medical technology could not block its spread artificially, but the vaccine they had developed would cure the affected party almost instantly.

McCoy didn’t know Raval that well; Raval had been first in their class for ages, but a bad grade on a hematology lab had brought Raval’s grade down enough in their senior year that McCoy had managed to sneak into first. Raval had seemed to react well enough, going so far as to shake McCoy’s hand at graduation, but according to McCoy through Spock, there was “something about the man he just didn’t trust.”

He put a comforting hand on McCoy’s shoulder, irrationally envying for a moment the way Spock had placed his fingers lightly on the doctor’s face earlier. Kirk generally avoided physical contact with Spock. He had realized a couple of months ago that the strange feelings he had for his second-in-command weren’t just deep friendship, but actual attraction, which worried him. He had never felt anything for a man before. So he kept away from Spock’s hands and heat, preferring the cold of the captain’s seat to any embarrassment his undoubtedly unreturned feelings might provide.

“The serum from the Enterprise is here,” said Spock into Kirk’s ear. Kirk jumped, unsettled by Spock’s breath.

They went into the main room. The party had continued, the guests unaware of the security guards now encircling the perimeter of the building. The ensign that had beamed down with the vaccine was standing near the Vulcan council, talking to the older Spock. Raval was nearby, watching the ensign closely.

“Keep an eye on our friend,” said Kirk, gesturing to Raval. Spock nodded and stayed back. Kirk regretted that they were not armed with phasers. Kirk was dressed for a ball, not a fight.

“Thanks for beaming down, Ensign.”

He reached for the vaccine the ensign was holding in a small, delicate case. That was when Raval acted.

He drew an old Earth pistol and fired at the case. Kirk shoved the ensign forward and toppled to the ground, snatching the case and hugging it to him. Both Spocks moved quickly towards Raval, who fired again.

Kirk’s mouth went completely dry as the second bullet grazed the younger Spock’s leg. He continued forward determinedly. Raval cocked the gun to fire again.

Kirk moved in one smooth motion. He placed the case as gently on the ground as he could and simply threw himself forwards. In eight huge bounds he closed the distance between himself and Raval, who had fired twice more, aiming for the case but missing in his hurry to cock the ancient pistol. Kirk reached Raval first; the younger Spock had been slowed by the bullet and the older Spock wasn’t as quick on his feet.

Raval fired point-blank. Kirk felt a sickening pain in the side of his neck. He grabbed the gun with his left hand, punching Raval in the gut with his right. Raval didn’t have a chance against a full Starfleet officer. He tried swinging wildly, but Kirk grabbed his forearm and flipped the half-Vulcan over his hip, his sleeve tearing off in the process. The younger Spock had reached them by that time. His hand closed around the nerve cluster in Raval’s shoulder that would put him to sleep.

For a moment, everyone was still. Then Kirk staggered, his hand rising to his neck. Three inches of skin near the shoulder had been blown off. He was bleeding profusely, the thin membrane of his jugular revealed in places, pumping weakly. Without hesitation, the younger Spock brought his hand down on the other side of Kirk’s shoulder, flexing his fingers into the appropriate locations. Kirk collapsed, Spock lowering his body gently to the ground.

When Kirk awoke, McCoy’s blue eyes were like lamps in front of him. The doctor was grinning widely.

“Sweet of you to nearly get yourself killed on my behalf,” said McCoy, drawing back. “That older vaccine worked fine. Turns out Raval had sabotaged the first batch. Spock could tell when he touched the boiler; did you know he can read the history of certain objects, if there’s a strong emotion attached to them? Anyway, Raval had to take out a medic to destroy the batch. The poor man’s recovering well. Raval, what an asshole.”

“Not a friend of yours, then?”

“Not if he fires on my captain and first officer and tries to kill me in the middle of a dinner party. I didn’t know he had it in him. The Vulcans are… dealing with him.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Spock Prime wouldn’t tell me.”

“Spock Prime?”

“The older Spock. I got confused when they cured me earlier so he just told me to call him that.”

“Good idea.” Kirk sat up. He was in the same room McCoy had convalesced in. “I feel fine, by the way.”

“I got to you within about five minutes. No idea what those green-blooded goblins were going to do to you if I hadn’t got there. I patched you up, just don’t take off the bandage for a couple of days and you’ll be healed.”

“How’s Spock?”

“The younger? He seemed perfectly fine. I only saw him for a few seconds when he injected me with the serum. Why?”

“Leonard, he got shot.”

“What?”

“His leg was grazed—you haven’t seen to him?”

“I haven’t! That pointy-eared bastard—”

Kirk flipped open his communicator. “Spock. Report.”

“Sir, I am seeing to the criminal Raval—”

“Has your wound been treated?”

There was a pause. “No, sir. I thought it prudent—”

“I think it prudent that you get your ass down here and let McCoy patch you up. That’s an order, Spock.”

“Yes, sir,” said Spock.

“He sounds kinda sullen,” said McCoy, grinning. 

“As well he should,” muttered Kirk, more worried than he dared to admit. “That was a bad scrape.”

T’Rai and Baro came in, T’Rai leaning down to kiss Kirk’s cheek. She sounded quite concerned about his health. Baro, too, looked worried, but they were both reassured when Kirk sat up and told them he’d had worse. Satisfied that Kirk would survive, they left to give him some privacy and time to recover.

Spock appeared at the doorway five minutes later, accompanied by Spock Prime, who looked slightly amused by the whole situation. Spock had bandaged his leg haphazardly. McCoy made an outraged, hen-like noise and pushed Spock onto the couch next to Kirk, who felt a hot surge of protectiveness for his Spock. When McCoy unwrapped the bandage, Spock hissed involuntarily, his fingers clutching at the couch fabric. The deep graze was right above his knee. It bled sluggishly. McCoy’s fingers were quickly stained green. Spock Prime watched Kirk, who never took his attention off of Spock’s face or McCoy’s careful hands.

After McCoy finished tending to Spock, he was called to record testimony against Raval. Kirk and Spock were left with Spock Prime.

“I told you you should have gotten that looked at,” said Spock Prime gently to Spock. 

“I was fine,” said Spock, eyeing his bandaged leg resentfully. “Raval had to be dealt with before I had this tended to.”

“Your action was selfish,” said Kirk sternly. “Starfleet paid a lot of money to train you. What if you had gotten an infection and died? Next time you get a wound, get it tended to as soon as you possibly can. Do I have to make that an order?”

“No, sir,” said Spock, staring at his shoes. “Can we leave now?” he asked Spock Prime, sounding like a child who had just been punished for misbehavior.

“Yes, I think you can,” said Spock Prime, smiling. Spock stood, favoring his injured leg. He offered a hand to help Kirk up. The captain needed it; he was still dizzy from blood loss. The warmth of Spock’s hand was comforting. He felt himself flush slightly.

Spock left first. Before Kirk could exit, Spock Prime put a hand on Kirk’s shoulder.

“Vulcans have a difficult time expressing their emotions,” Spock Prime told him. “We repress ourselves on purpose; otherwise, our feelings would swell up and take over our minds.”

Kirk stared at him. “What are you trying to say?”

“What I just said, nothing more,” said Spock Prime. “Vulcans are touch telepaths, you know.”

Kirk pulled away from Spock Prime without thinking.

“I would know even without being able to read your mind,” said Spock Prime, smiling at Kirk. 

“Is—is what I feel okay?” said Kirk uncertianly. It was strange talking to Spock about this, even if he wasn’t the same Spock. They were different enough in attitude that he didn’t have too hard of a time seeing the two as different people, but certain of their tics and mannerisms were eerily similar.

“You’ll have to ask him,” said Spock Prime. With that, he swept out of the room.

Kirk followed him out. In the ballroom, the guests were discussing what had happened. The evidence of the attack was being cleared up. Spock had been talking to the Vulcan council when he saw something sparkling on the floor. He stooped to pick it up.

Kirk saw him from far away. He realized three things in the same moment. One, that the shiny object was one of his cuff links, ripped off when he had thrown Raval over his hip. Two, that he had only worn those cuff links a couple of times, and the most intense experience he’d had in them had been in the closet with T’Rai. Three, according to everything he knew about touch telepaths, the memory of T’Rai would be foremost in Spock’s mind when he picked up the cuff link. Kirk knew without a doubt that he didn’t want to Spock to find out about T’Rai. It looked pretty bad to have sex with someone at the spur of the moment because you’re bored at a formal event. And T’Rai and Spock were physically similar. What if Spock figured it out? He was a smart guy.

Spock’s hand closed around the cuff link. He paused, half-bent, and Kirk stopped in his tracks, horrified. Then Spock drew up, staring at the cuff link he was holding, his eyes far away.

“Spock,” said Kirk, and even though his voice was quiet in the crowd, Spock looked up.

“Captain,” said Spock, his eyes darker than normal. “I believe these are yours.”

Kirk crossed the room, holding out his hand silently. Spock pinched the link for a moment, closing two fingers tightly around the embossed edge. Then he dropped it into Kirk’s palm, purposefully (in Kirk’s mind) avoiding touching the captain’s skin.

“Thanks,” said Kirk gruffly. He met Spock’s eyes. The half-Vulcan nodded, his expression unreadable. 

The celebration finished quickly. The crew of the Enterprise, spooked by the attack, were eager to board their vessel. They were beamed up in sixes, leaving Kirk time have a few words with T’Rai and Baro, both of whom were sad to see him go and invited him to come visit any time. He was aware of Spock approaching him as they were saying their goodbyes and turned before he had to introduce them. 

Spock’s eyes flickered over T’Rai, but he said nothing. 

“It is time for us to beam up, Captain,” said Spock. “Only you, myself, and Doctor McCoy remain.”

Kirk went to thank the Vulcan council for their celebration and accept their numerous apologies for the near-death of his CMO. He waved to T’Rai and Baro as he, Spock, and McCoy got in position to beam up. Spock Prime raised his right hand in the Vulcan salute. And winked.

Frazzled, Kirk said into his communicator, “Energize.”

Back on the bridge, Kirk directed Sulu to lay in a course for Civet IV. He could have commanded Sulu from the intercom in his room, but he felt like making sure all systems were in order. After thirty minutes he felt he should go change. He planned on being on the bridge in an hour to make a transmission to Starfleet about what had happened at the ceremony, and he needed to take a very long shower.

Spock, however, intercepted him on the way to his quarters, still dashing in his tattered formal finery. Gritting his teeth, Kirk tried to repress his physical reaction. He was too tired to deal with Spock, although evidently his lower anatomy hadn’t gotten that message.

“Captain, I was wondering if I could have a word with you.” The Vulcan’s eyes were serious.

“Now is not the best time…”

“I must insist, Captain.”

Kirk sighed. “Alright. Come on.”

In Kirk’s quarters, Spock lowered himself carefully into a chair with Kirk’s permission. Kirk fell back on his bed, tugging off his boots.

“What is it you wanted to say?” said Kirk. He unbuttoned his shirt halfway. As he was removing his cuff links, Spock spoke.

“Those cuff links, Captain,” said Spock, fixing his eyes on the little golden knobs. “I was… curious as to the emotion I received from them.”

Oh God, thought Kirk. What does that even mean, coming from him?

“Well, it probably wasn’t much of an emotion,” said Kirk, carefully not looking at his first officer. “T’Rai and I were sort of in a hurry—”

Spock held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Captain. What are you talking about?”

“What?”

“T’Rai was not involved in the memories and feelings I gained from handling your cuff link.”

“… She wasn’t?”

“No.” Spock was looking at him strangely. “All I received were images of myself, doing mundane things like touching your shoulder and standing next to you. I was simply curious as to why those images were accompanied by a feeling I could only describe as… passion.”

Kirk went entirely cold. He had no idea what to say, or think. He hadn’t expected this at all, though he should have. He wasn’t aware that he was that interested in Spock. That what he felt for Spock could be expressed I terms of passion.

“I don’t know,” Kirk managed weakly, his voice cracking. He could not look up, could not meet Spock’s eyes. “That’s pretty strange. Maybe your reading’s a bit off today.”

“My telepathic sense is as finely honed as usual,” said Spock, voice soft. “Captain.”

Kirk kept his eyes on the ground.

“Captain.”

“Spock, I can’t,” Kirk choked. “Please—just leave—”

“Jim.”

Kirk looked up.

Spock was half out of his chair, leaning forward with something like a wild expression on his tight features. His mouth was parted, lips red from being bitten. His fingers were twitching.

“Say it, Jim,” Spock said hoarsely. “Just admit it. That’s all you have to do.”

Kirk gaped at him. 

“I—Spock, what?” A shudder ran through his body. He was so afraid, but he had no idea what he was afraid of. “No, I can’t.” He buried his head in his hands. “I can’t. Just—leave. Go. Get out.”

“Jim—”

“Get OUT!” Kirk roared, turning angry, bloodshot eyes to Spock. 

Spock, who was standing now, stepped backwards, hurt appearing on his face like a bruise blossoming after an underhanded punch. He opened his mouth for a moment, sharp eyes brimming, but closed it, and left.

Kirk sat back, tears coursing down his cheeks. His chest was rising and lowering heavily. The cold that had wrapped around his stomach tightened, cutting him deeply.

He had never thought about Spock before. He had always pushed him to the back of his mind, uncomfortable around his feelings. He never admitted to himself that Spock was the only thing he thought about, that Spock was his hobby, his pastime, his project. Getting to know Spock, coming to—to love Spock. 

He put the cuff links on his night stand. They were damp from the sweat of his hands.

He stared at them.

It is possible, he thought, that he likes me too.

Kirk steeled himself. With that one realization, he knew he was decided. He swung his feet off the bed and stood, pulling off all of his formal wear. He dove quickly into his closet, finding his everyday uniform and putting everything on. He straightened his gold shirt self-consciously, feeling better already, more in control.

He left his room. His footsteps were loud. His neck was aching; the painkiller that McCoy had given him was wearing off. He knew where Spock would be.

The turbolift took him to deck fourteen. He found Spock in the recreation room, seated in front of a 3D chess set.

Spock turned in his chair, standing as soon as he saw Kirk. 

“I’m sorry,” Kirk said, stepping towards his first officer. “I’m so sorry, Spock. I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

“No excuses,” whispered Spock. He had composed himself. His expression was cold.

Kirk crossed the room, walking until he stood only a foot in front of Spock. Gingerly, he reached out and took Spock’s hand.

“I feel passion for you,” he said strongly. “Every vivid memory I have from the last few months is of you. Every thought is tinged with your voice or your eyes. Spock, I am so sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You must do the logical thing,” said Spock, tightening his grip on Kirk’s hand until Kirk felt like the bones might break. “Kiss me.”

The cold thing in Kirk’s stomach uncurled into fiery warmth as Kirk grasped Spock’s other hand. He bent Spock over the desk, knocking the chessboard to the floor. The taste of him was so much better than he had ever expected, like brine and subtlety, with a tinge of something quietly unknown.

That call to Starfleet would have to wait, thought Kirk, worrying Spock’s bottom lip with his teeth. Spock responded by flipping Kirk over and pressing him hard into the table. Kirk’s injury throbbed, but he was paying more attention to the matching wound Spock was giving the other side of his neck.

“By the way,” Spock whispered in his ear, pausing his exhaustive study of Kirk’s sternomastoid, “Doctor McCoy told me not to exert myself too much for the rest of the day.”

“Well now, we’ll just have to disobey orders, now won’t we?” grinned Kirk, grabbing Spock’s shoulders and pulling him down for another kiss.


End file.
